


Princes, Come Home

by HallsofStone2941



Series: Heavy Is the Head that Bears the Crown [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awesome Frerin, Baby Frerin, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Mention of Gore, Sequel to ATM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallsofStone2941/pseuds/HallsofStone2941
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frerin shows his newfound nephews Erebor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princes, Come Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shinkan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinkan/gifts).



> This fic is entirely dedicated to [shinkanneko](shinkanneko.tumblr.com), who has been ATM's biggest supporter. Without them, I wouldn't have half the pride I do for this fic, nor would I have [these](http://shinkanneko.tumblr.com/post/111392581662/fan-picture-i-did-for-a-thousand-miles-wearing) [WONDERFUL](http://shinkanneko.tumblr.com/post/118829387622/this-is-for-hallsofstone2941-for-her-a-thousand) [fanarts](http://shinkanneko.tumblr.com/post/119640750522/hey-hallsofstone-i-just-wanted-you-to-know-that-i) that I'm so honored they drew for me :DDDD. So this fic is a little slice of life after ATM, though it was inspired by a scene I meant to put in ATM and never got to fit in.
> 
> Khuzdul has hover text, with translations at the bottom.

Not long after his nephews are declared hale enough to be free of the healing chamber, Frerin finds himself stopped by two weights pulling down on his arms. His nephews - _his nephews_ , he thinks in awe - are staring up at him with twin pleading gazes.

“Yes?” Frerin asks.

“We were wondering-”

“-Uncle-”

“-If you could show us around Erebor?” they ask, uncharacteristically quiet. Frerin raises an eyebrow and shakes his arms, causing them to let go and stand up properly.

He watches them for a long time: two grown Dwarves, his sister’s sons, that he barely knows. They fidget beneath his scrutiny, clearly uncertain as to how they should act around him, the uncle they’ve never known.

He smiles, and they relax a little bit. “Of course,” he tells them. “Follow me.”

They break into excited grins, practically bouncing around him like puppies as he walks. “Really?” Kili asks. “Thorin’s been getting twitchy whenever we bring it up, and even Mum goes quiet.”

Frerin considers him; the rather cheesy grin on his face and light in his eyes. Fili, he notes, is more solemn at Kili’s remark. Frerin hesitates, choosing his words carefully.

“I don’t know, truly, what hardships your people have suffered. You must understand that while we were affected by Smaug’s presence here, we never left home. We never wandered the wilds, suffered the freezing cold or even lack of food, and for that we were incredibly lucky."

He catches their gazes. “Being back in Erebor for my siblings...it feels like a dream to them, I imagine. Something that might disappear if they turn their backs. Not to mention that it isn’t what it once was, not by a long shot. This place, for them, has been a hopeful dream for so long - something to comfort them when they were tired and hungry and far from anything resembling a home.”

Fili nods in affirmation.

“And now they’re here, and they’ve got to be wondering,” Frerin looks up into the vastness of Erebor, “whether they can bring it back. Whether, after all those years, it can _be_ a home again.”

He looks back to Fili and Kili, allowing a smile to grace his features. “Whereas me, I’ve been holding down the fort this whole time,” he jests. “It’s a little less awesome when you’re constantly reminded of how difficult it is to get around.”

They step through a doorway, which leads to a balcony overlooking a large cavern. Below them is a large, flat arena. Around its inside rail are multiple racks for weapons, armor, targets, and medical stations; within it are several circular rings meant for one-on-one combat. The outside of the arena is surrounded by rows of seats, each one higher than the one before it, and a small section of the field butts up against the wall upon which they stand, leading to the ground level of Erebor, the storage rooms, and several other chambers. The ceiling of the arena’s chamber rises high above them, disappearing into the darkness.

Fili and Kili lean out over the railing of the balcony, staring in awe, their jaws open wide. Even in the dim light, the field is impressive, both in its structure and sheer size.

“Then again,” Frerin says, breaking the silence as he steps forward to stand between them. “It does still inspire awe.”

“Is this…” Kili whispers reverently. “Is this a training ground?”

“Indeed it is,” Frerin replies. “Your uncle and I trained many times in those rings, as well as Balin. Had Dis been older before the dragon came, she would have learned here, as well.”

His nephews’ eyes dart everywhere, taking in as much as they can. “How did this survive the dragon’s wrath?” Fili murmurs quietly.

Frerin shrugs. “The weapons we used here weren’t ornamental or fancy; iron, leather, wood, and stone were the main components. There’s nothing in here that Smaug would have wanted, and it was far enough away from the central damage that it stayed relatively intact.” There are a few chunks of rock scattered throughout the arena, but for the most part, everything is just as Frerin remembers it.

“This place was also used for Durin’s Day Festivals, which is why there are seats. Sometimes we’d clear away the rings for rituals, traditional dances, tournaments, and the like. With everyone so brightly colored, and fires blazing everywhere…” Frerin’s mind is far away, envisioning embroidered scarves and dancing blades, metals gleaming in warm firelight, the cheers of thousands of Dwarves, merchants selling extravagant wares… “it’s an experience I cannot describe.”

“The _Nurtu Amrâgudurin_ ,” Kili mentions, looking at his brother. “like they have in Ered Luin.”   
  
Fili nods. “But it was never...to this scale. There wasn’t a lot of room, and not many people ever participated.” He rests his forearms on the railing. “I wish we could’ve seen it.”

“No reason you can’t,” Frerin replies. “Don’t worry, we’ll have one next year. Dis and I will make sure of it.

Fili and Kili perk up at that, and chatter excitedly as they leave the balcony. Frerin leads them through Erebor, pointing out this and that to his eager nephews, who absorb their new home with wide, stunned eyes. He feels pride well up in his chest - not just for Erebor, his home, but for them as well; these two brave boys who followed their Uncle across Middle Earth to reclaim their bedtime stories.

Eventually, they come near the gates, Frerin still narrating for them. The hall they are walking through hasn’t been touched much since the Battle, nor in the years during Smaug’s residence in Erebor, and Frerin grows quiet, lost in memories.

“I would have expected to see...more corpses.” Fili’s voice breaks the silence. He’s looking around solemnly, blue eyes taking in the cracked and shattered stone around them.

“There were more,” Frerin’s voice is a low murmur, his mind recalling the pathway of the dead he had found, so long ago. “Those who had stood against the dragon at the gate, those who fled - or tried to - during his rampage. This hallway,” he gestures, “was once filled with them, and the things they left behind.”

“What happened to them?” Kili asks, expectedly subdued.

“We buried them.” Frerin replies simply. “We would trek up here, in the first few years, and carry them back, taking them beneath the mountain and give them a proper resting place."

Fili and Kili look around, perhaps recognizing the darkened splotches on the stone, the pieces of metal imbedded in the pillars and floor.

The walk back to the healing rooms is silent, and Frerin imagines that Fili and Kili are digesting what they’ve seen and heard. Their expressions become less somber when entering the chambers, seeing Thorin sit up straight in a chair by his bed, while Dis and the Hobbit hover next to him. Soon enough, Frerin finds himself vastly amused as Thorin’s cot is abused beneath their bouncing feet. Thorin looks disgruntled, but Frerin can easily recognize the smirk his brother is trying to hide in his beard.

He goes to stand by his siblings, surveying the room with fondness and feeling the discomfort of haunting memories fade away.

“You were gone for some time. Where did you go?” Thorin asks, eyes tracking his nephews’ movements.

Frerin shrugs. “Showed them around. They should get to know the place; it’s their kingdom too, after all.” Thorin inclines his head, finally permitting his smile to stretch wider as Fili and Kili accidentally knock their heads together mid-bounce.

Frerin takes the opportunity to draw Dis away with an arm around her shoulder. She examines him shrewdly.

“Don’t think that all the years away has made me forget that look in your eye,” she warns, mischief dancing in her eyes. “What’s on your mind, brother dear?”

“Ah, well,” he hums and haws, pretending to dither. “I was wondering what your thoughts would be...for next year’s Durin’s Day Festival."

The spark of mischief grows as Dis throws her head back and laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> (ATM was supposed to have a scene where the Dwarves buried their own, but it never fit in, so here's mention of it. Also please pretend that Fili and Kili were injured in Battle of Five Armies, even though I never mentioned it).
> 
> Nurtu Amrâgudurin = Day of the celebration of Durin (or Durin's Day celebration/festival); a special thanks to [StrivingArtist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/StrivingArtist/pseuds/StrivingArtist) for the translation :D


End file.
